


almost no one makes it out

by likewinning



Series: are we getting any closer [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Green Arrow (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: Friends only take you so far when you're face-first in your own sick and you can't remember how you ended up on someone else's front porch.





	

Hal's alarm goes off at 10:45, fifteen minutes before he's supposed to be across town at the community center. He stumbles out of bed, aims his toothbrush in general direction of his face, finds a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that aren't _that_ dirty and only arrives five minutes late to Narcotics Anonymous.

Bruce _still_ gives him the death glare when Hal finds a seat in the circle, because Bruce is a fucking asshole, or whatever.

"Nice of you to join us," Bruce says. "For anyone who hasn't had the pleasure, this is Hal."

"Hey," Hal says. He waves, and while Bruce continues his spiel, Hal looks around the room for new faces. There are always a few - and a few who turn up once and never again.

"If you feel comfortable," Bruce says. "I'd like to go around the room now and have all our newcomers introduce themselves."

Hal spaces out for most of it. He needs these meetings, he does, it's just -

There's a girl, blonde with blue streaks. Meth. A guy old enough to be Hal's father who apparently played around with every substance under the sun - you can tell by the missing teeth, the burnt rubber pretending to be his skin. A clean-cut dude who twists a ring around his finger while he talks. Then -

"Um." The guy has red hair, maybe hasn't been washed in a week. Freckles and green eyes and a mess of tats on his arms that don't do a thing to hide the track marks. The guy next to him - pretty and dark-haired and _so_ not an addict with a napkin full of cookies in his lap - nudges him, and he keeps going.

"So I'm Roy," he says. "I've been sober for um." He glances at the other guy, who holds up four fingers. "Four. Four days. Ha. Is there a chip for that?" He scratches at his arm, looks down. He's wearing beat-up Converse and jeans torn to shreds. "I like. I mean I liked, ha. Heroin." He holds out his arms. "Obviously."

Roy clears his throat, gestures beside him. "And this is Dick. He's just here for the cookies."

"Am _not_ ," Dick says, with his mouthful.

Bruce clears his throat. "Thank you, Roy," he says. "Let's move along…"

Only three people cry today. Hal _hates_ when they cry, so he spends most of his time watching the new guy, Roy. Most of the time he sits quietly picking at his fingernails, painted bright red, but once in a while he cracks a joke and anyone not too far into their own head laughs. When the group breaks off, Hal stands up to run for the coffee before all that's left is fucking _decaf_ , but Bruce stops him.

"Jordan," Bruce says.

"Yeah?" Hal says. People are _scrambling_ , and Roy's little friend is grabbing more cookies.

"How long has it been now?" Bruce asks.

"Four years," Hal says. And three months, and twenty-two days, and Bruce _knows_ that, so fuck this guy for making him do math.

"That's a long time," Bruce says. "You should be proud."

"Uh," Hal says. He _knows_ that was the last of the toffee nut cookies. Fucking children ruining his sugar buzz. They get the _best_ cookies here because Bruce's little twink makes them all for them and the coffee's like, the real gourmet shit. If there's any left, which -

"Have you considered," Bruce says. "Becoming a sponsor?"

"What, you mean like to someone else?" Hal asks. He finally looks at Bruce, and he's of course staring Hal down like he's the dumbest thing alive. Whatever.

"Yes, Hal," Bruce says. "To someone else. I was thinking about Roy over there."

Hal glances back over just in time to catch a glimpse of Roy's ass as he bends down to pick up a napkin he dropped. "What about him? He's got a friend, doesn't he?"

"Sure," Bruce says. "And friends are good. But friends don't really know, do they?" Hal knows. He remembers when he first dropped off the face of the earth, how Barry would call and call but he just didn't _get it_ , and fucking Guy just stopped talking to him altogether. Friends only take you so far when you're face-first in your own sick and you can't remember how you ended up on someone else's front porch.

"No, I guess not," Hal says.

"I'd like you to sponsor him," Bruce says. "If he's willing."

"Okay," Hal says. "I can try."

Bruce smiles, sort of. "Don't fuck up," he says. Hal thinks maybe he's telling a joke.

 

*

 

There's no regular coffee left because life is cruel, but Hal grabs a cup of terrible decaf and an oatmeal cookie and finds Roy outside, sitting on the steps and smoking.

"Hey man," Hal says.

Roy looks up at him, blinks real slow. There's more ink poking out the top of his Deftones t-shirt and he has more holes in his ears than Hal would even think possible, really. "Hey," Roy says.

"Mind if I sit?" Hal asks, and Roy shrugs.

"Do what you gotta," he says.

Hal sits down and lights up a cigarette. They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, and then Hal says, "First meetings are always bullshit."

"Sure," Roy says. "Especially if you don't really want to be here."

Hal nods. "The pretty thing eating all the cookies, right?"

"Uh-huh," Roy says. He sucks his cigarette to the filter, lets it drop and lights up another. "Best friend. He means well, right?"

"They usually do," Hal says. Without meaning to, he starts telling Roy about Barry, all the programs Barry tried to get him into, the rehabs he walked out of after three days.

"Shit," Roy says. "Dick would've kicked my ass."

"I'm sure Barry wanted to," Hal says. He sits back against the steps. "But it's been four years now. Made it this far, right?"

"Yeah," Roy says. He exhales smoke through his nose. "I don't know if…" He scratches at his arm.

"Hey," Hal says. "I came out here to… I mean, if you need someone to talk to. Someone who gets it."

"Yeah?" Roy asks. He grins around his cigarette, and one of his canines is chipped. Hal used to get in fights all the time, used to black out and beg Barry for bail money.

"Yeah," he says. He digs a pen out of his coat and an old gas receipt and scribbles down his number. "I mean," he says, handing it off to Roy, "Fair warning, I've never done this before."

"Hey man," Roy says. "Me either."

They sit on the steps for a while, until Dick comes out of the building brushing cookie crumbs off his jeans.

"You ready?" Dick asks.

"Sure," Roy says. He stands up and looks back at Hal. "Thanks, man," he says.

"Call," Hal says. "Any time."

Roy nods, and as they walk off Hal hears Dick ask, "Is this place for dating, too? I didn't know that!"

Hal finishes his cigarette and heads home. He's not really expecting anything.

 

*

 

Roy wakes up at 4AM, his sheets soaked in sweat and his whole body shaking. He thought he was past this part. He thought he -

He gets out of bed and tries to hold himself up in the shower. The apartment is dead quiet when he gets back out, not a single noise from the streets. He's still shaking when he picks up his phone and dials the phone number he left on his nightstand.

The phone rings. It rings, and rings, and just as Roy's about to give up and call his dealer instead -

"'lo?"

"Hey," Roy says. "Uh, hi. Is this. Hal?"

"Depends," Hal says. "Who's asking?"

"Um," Roy says. "It's Roy. We met outside NA yesterday. I… fuck, I know it's late and all. I can call back if -"

"No," Hal says. He clears his throat. "No, you're good, man. You need to talk?"

"Yeah," Roy says. He lets out a breath. He's still standing in nothing but a towel, water dripping off his hair and down to the floor. "I think I do."

"There's a 24-hour McDonalds over on Parker and Monaco," Hal says. "You know it? We could grab a coffee."

"Sure," Roy says.

"I can meet you there, or I can pick you up if you want."

"A ride might be good," Roy says. "My license… I kinda, ah…"

"No worries," Hal says. "I only just got mine back. We can swap stories later. Where do you live?"

Roy gives him the address, and after they hang up he goes to get dressed. He smokes a couple of cigarettes while he waits outside for Hal. The moon is bright and huge tonight, and Roy needs to take his dealer's number out of his phone. He should've left town, so no one had to deal with him. He should've -

A beat-up looking Civic pulls up, and Hal rolls down the window. "Hey," he says.

Roy gets in the car. There's barely room _to_ get in the car - fast food wrappers cover every inch of the floor on the passenger's side, like Hal just cleared all the trash off the seat. The radio's playing Bob Dylan, and Hal's wearing the same bomber jacket he was before.

"Hi," Roy says. "Sorry," he says again. "I didn't -"

"Not a problem," Hal says. He yawns as he pulls back onto the street. "Coffee first though, right?"

At McDonald's, Hal orders two Egg McMuffins, a coffee, and a chocolate shake. Roy still can't keep his food down, and coffee already makes him jittery, so he just gets a large Coke.

"Thing they don't tell you," Hal says around a mouthful of his sandwich, "Is once you get all that shit outta your system, you just wanna eat your weight in grease and sugar."

"Yeah," Roy says. He plays with his straw, pops all the little buttons on the lid of his soda. They're the only ones in the restaurant right now. Roy remembers coming in here to shoot up one time and walking in on a guy getting head.

"So what's up?" Hal says.

"I just," Roy says. He pulls at his hair. It smells like the mango shampoo Tim left behind and it's still damp from the shower. He's always cold lately, except for when his body's on fire. He looks at Hal. "How do you fucking _do_ it, man? How do you keep it together?"

Hal stares at him, then cracks up. "Are you fucking kidding me? You saw the inside of my car, right? Roy, that's still what my _life_ looks like."

"Yeah, but -"

"Look," Hal says. He takes a sip of his shake, and chases it with a sip of coffee. "I mean, I'm sober, right? And that's great for everybody involved. Sometimes my body feels 40 instead of 85. Some of my friends have started talking to me again. But man… Even if you keep at this, that doesn't mean your life is automatically gonna stop being a mess."

Roy nods. His skin itches, every part of it, and he doesn't realize how _hard_ he's digging his nails into his arm until Hal reaches across the table and stops him.

"Hey," Hal said. "Talk to me."

So Roy does. He tells Hal about growing up, about Ollie taking him in, about Ollie being the greatest guy in the world for all of two minutes before disappearing for weeks at a time. He tells him about the rich twats who played around with every drug they could, and how he hated just about all of them until heroin.

"Ollie kicked me out a couple years ago when he found out," Roy says. "Then Dickie took me in, and I tried to quit, but it - didn't take. I just kept lying to him. Still don't know why that stupid ass didn't leave me in the dirt."

"And miss out on free cookies?" Hal teases, and Roy grins and flips him off. It's getting closer to six now, and the place is filling up a bit more. Roy's been trying to work through half of one of the sandwiches Hal ordered while he talks.

"Dick's a great guy," Roy says. "Loyal as hell. And I… Then I moved in with this guy, but..." He swallows, shakes his head. "Shit," he says. "Sun's almost up, man. How'd you let me talk so much?"

Hal laughs. "Dunno," he says. "Here I thought I'd have to do all the talking."

"Well, maybe you're doing your job wrong," Roy says.

"Yeah," Hal says. "That's totally possible."

Roy smiles at him, wonders the last time he actually did that.

 

*

 

The next time Hal sees Roy, it's at a meeting a few days later. Hal's actually on time today, and he takes the chair next to Roy and nudges his leg. "No cookie monster sidekick today?" Hal asks.

Roy looks up at him from his phone and smiles at him. "Nah," Roy says. "I think maybe this is easier to do without him, you know?"

"Sure," Hal says. Barry came to a few of these, but he got a little too much into the whole serenity prayer bullshit and it made Hal want to go in completely the opposite direction. So maybe he's a contrary fuck.

"Promised I'd bring him something back today, though," Roy says, slipping his phone back into his pockets. "Jay's making brownies, and us poor kids gotta eat, right?"

"Sure enough," Hal says. A few people sit down around them - Hal waves at M, who's leading today - but it's not quite time. "You're, uh. You're not working?"

"No," Roy says. He shrugs, looks down at his shoes. "I was kind of unemployable until I stopped using."

"Yeah," Hal says. "Well look, if you want, I can help you with that." Roy makes a face. "Hey, don't get all prideful with me, okay? You can't survive on pastries."

Roy laughs. "Dickie would argue otherwise," he says. He looks back up at Hal, scratches the back of his head. "But okay. What you got?"

"You might not like it," Hal says. "But…"

 

*

 

Actually, the restaurant is pretty great. Roy's first day, he learns the ins and outs of the kitchen, and then he spends the rest of the morning doing dishes and a little bit of prep work. No one talks to him unless they need to, and he gets to play his music as loud as he wants to, and there's a sort of zen to the water and the steam that he hasn't been able to find since -

Since.

Hal comes back to check on Roy throughout the day, in between getting yelled at by Bruce for being, apparently, a fucking appalling waiter.

"You doing all right?" Hal asks him an hour before their shifts end. It's at least the sixth time he's asked, but that's okay. He knows Hal's just trying to look out for him. It's not like he's that great at doing that for himself.

"Sure," Roy says. He holds up his pruney dishwater hands, and Hal holds up the hand he scalded on one of the burners today. Roy laughs.

"So listen," Hal says. "What are you doing after work?"

"Dunno," Roy says. "Figured I'd go home, stare at the walls, think about calling my dealer…"

"Yeah, no," Hal says. "You're hanging out with me."

"Hal," Roy says. "You don't have to - I don't need a _babysitter_. I mean," he says. "Thanks for the job, and. And everything, but -"

Hal leans back against the sink next to him. Even through the smell of fried food, Roy can smell that cheap cologne he uses, the cigarettes he snuck out for when he was supposed to be covering someone else's tables. "Not too long ago," Hal says, "I almost relapsed. I tracked down a dealer I hadn't spoken to in years, bought enough coke to cover a mountain. I just wanted - I was sick of fucking feeling shit."

"Jesus," Roy says. Of course, that's what he thinks about every night. His track marks itch the worst at night; his body aches and sweats even though it all must be out of his system now. "How did you…"

"I don't know," Hal says. "I sat there for the longest time, alone in my apartment. I didn't have anyone to call, not - not really. Bruce. Maybe my friend Barry. But neither of them…" Hal clears his throat. "Eventually I flushed it all. Hundreds of dollars down the drain instead of up my nose." He laughs. "All I'm trying to say is it would've been easier with someone else, you know?"

"Yeah," Roy says. "Yeah, I -" Bruce pokes his head in back, glares at Hal. "Jordan," he says. "I've got six tables that don't even have drinks yet. _Work_."

"Coming," Hal says. He pushes himself off the sink and grabs for the pencil he stuffed behind his ear, but he looks back at Roy. "Tonight?" he asks.

"Yeah," Roy says. "Yeah, okay."

 

*

 

When Hal first sobered up, it took him a little while to realize that up until that point, his life had revolved around drugs. Which, of _course_ , but it was mostly that he wasn't sure what sober people _did_. He's having that problem again now, driving around town with Roy in the passenger seat.

"We could see a movie," Hal suggests half-heartedly. He thinks the last movie he saw might have been before they made blue rays.

"Maybe," Roy says. "But I'm banned from most of the theaters around here for shooting up in the bathrooms."

"Okay," Hal says. "Um, there's a coffee shop over on Monaco…"

"Sure," Roy says. He lights up a cigarette. "Whatever."

Roy doesn't really say anything the rest of the drive. Hal parks and feeds the meter and they both order the cheapest thing, but when they're standing at the counter waiting for their drinks Roy's whole body goes still.

"What is it?" Hal asks, and Roy shakes his head.

"Roy," Hal says.

"I think," Roy says. He's looking the other direction. "I think I just saw my ex."

"Oh," Hal says. "Do we need to go?"

"I don't," Roy says. "I."

"Come on," Hal says. He grabs his drink and tugs on the sleeve of Roy's t-shirt. "My place is just down the way."

Hal waits until they're back at his place to say anything. He kicks some dirty clothes off the futon so they can sit down, and then he says, "Talk to me."

"Ha," Roy says. His hand shakes as he brings his coffee cup to his lips. "That's what you're here for, right?"

"Yeah, man," Hal says. "It is. Look, I know from bad exes, okay? Sure, usually I _was_ one, but -"

"Tim was perfect," Roy spits out. Then he laughs, shakes his head. "No, I mean… Fuck." Roy's leg jiggles up and down, rattling the change in his pocket. "Tim was just a kid when I met him. Pretty and tiny and hopped up on so many pills he'd shake like a bottle of 'em. We'd stay up for days together just talking and fucking. He was this rich kid who hated his parents, and for a while I thought he was just with me to piss them off. Some dirtbag from Star City corrupting their kid. I still…" Roy clears his throat. "He disappeared a while ago. Ran off with my stash and whatever was in my pockets. He'd call me sometimes in the middle of the night to ask for money but I didn't have it, and then I didn't even have a phone, so…"

"Shit," Hal says. "That sounds like a nightmare."

"No," Roy says. He shakes his head, dirty red hair falling out of his ponytail, and sets his coffee down on the floor. Hal used to have a coffee table, until he hocked it to pay the electricity bill. "No, the thing is, I still think he was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Roy," Hal tries. Roy stares at him, licks his lips. They're sitting close, and Hal can count every freckle on his nose, the ones peeking out of his t-shirt. When Roy grabs for him, though, all he can see is Roy's eyes, big and green and hurting.

"This isn't the answer, man," Hal says. Roy's holding onto him by his jacket, and he moves right into his lap, knocking him back against the futon.

"Maybe I'm just grateful," Roy says. He rubs his thumbs over the collar of Hal's jacket, breathes coffee and cigarettes down on him.

"This is a bad idea," Hal says. Most things in his life are, but this is the kind of idea that's going to bring Bruce after him with a tire iron. Or a frying pan.

"Maybe," Roy says. "But I notice you're not actually saying no."

"Roy," Hal says, and Roy says, "Please," like the last line of the night, like if Hal doesn't say yes he'll burst out of his skin and before Hal even finishes saying, "Okay," Roy kisses him, hard like one of the hundred times Hal collapsed on the pavement outside some bar.

Roy kisses him with teeth, with tongue, with a mouth Hal's been thinking about too much, and his hands tug at Hal's jacket. He shakes like crazy when Hal puts his hands on his hips, runs them up and down feeling his ribs through his thin t-shirt.

"Let me suck you," Roy says against the corner of his mouth, and he licks at Hal's jaw, thrusts his hips like any other answer might send him searching for the closest needle.

"Please," Roy says again, and Hal groans as Roy drops to the dirty floor, knees landing on dirty clothes and plastic silverware from god knows when. He gets Hal's jeans open, pushes his shirt up and laps at his dick like it's the only thing he needs.

"Jesus," Hal says. Roy looks up at him, eyes fucked and mouth open, and Hal runs his hand through his hair. "God, man, you -" the words die in his throat when Roy sucks him down, takes him fast and sloppy, the noise loud enough to drown out his neighbors watching football and the sirens blaring outside.

"God," Hal says. He grabs at Roy's hair and Roy moans around him. "You really need this, don't you?" Roy moans in response, pushes Hal's thighs as far apart as he can with his jeans still on and ducks down to suck at his balls.

"I can't," Hal says. "This isn't how this was supposed to go, you know. I mean, when I saw you I - god, Roy, I wanted to fuck you but I -"

Roy _whines_ , low and desperate and sucks _hard_ , and Hal can't think anymore, can't do anything but grab Roy and push him back down on his dick and he wants this, maybe needs this too, needs to fuck Roy's face until the noise in his head just _stops_.

Roy pulls off when he comes, lets Hal shoot on his face, covering the freckles on his chin and his cheeks. He stays there on his knees, panting and looking up at him.

"Christ," Hal says. His throat hurts from shouting and he drags Roy back up by his t-shirt, hears the collar rip as Roy climbs back into his lap and Hal licks his face clean.

"What do you need, gorgeous?" Hal asks, and Roy shakes his head, buries his face in Hal's shoulder and Hal feels it when he comes, the way his trembling just _stops_. He moves back off Hal's lap then, digs around for his cigarettes and lights one up.

"It gets easier, right?" Roy asks, and Hal laughs. He brushes his fingers through Roy's hair, runs circles down his back. 

"Yeah," Hal says. "Something like that."

 

*

 

Roy's phone rings at eight in the morning, when civilized people are still asleep. He wakes up in someone else's bed, in someone else's room, and he stumbles to the carpet so he can dig his phone out of his jeans pocket and make the noise _stop_.

"'Lo?" Roy croaks. He feels like he just drank a bottle of Jaeger and his mouth tastes like - well, like Hal, who's still snoring a few feet away.

"Hey," Dick says. "I stopped by your place last night but you weren't there."

"Oh," Roy says. "Sorry, I - I'm at Hal's."

"So it _is_ a dating service," Dick says. Roy wobbles to his feet, grabs his shirt and walks out of the bedroom.

"Fuck you very much," Roy says. "What do you want, Dickie?"

Dick crunches on something, probably his daily giant sized bowl of Fruit Loops. Roy's never seen Dick mad, not in all the time Roy was using, except the time he accidentally ate the last of Dick's cereal. Dick chased after him for half an hour with the empty box.

"Just making sure you didn't get kidnapped," Dick says. "It's a bad neighborhood, you know."

Roy snorts. "Yeah," he says. "Or that I wasn't using?"

"Well…" Dick says. They don't really talk about it. Dick's entire conversation about taking him to NA was that it could be _fun_. Fucking freak.

"I'm okay, man," Roy says.

"Okay," Dick says. "You wanna hang out?"

"Jesus, Dickie, it's eight in the morning," Roy says.

"I know," Dick says. "But you're already up, right? And there's nothing on TV and Donna cancelled breakfast plans with me and I'm _bored_."

"Child," Roy says.

"Junkie," Dick singsongs back, and if Roy could flip him off over the phone, he would.

"What do you want to do?" Roy says.

"Well," Dick says. "Do you think your place has those cookies already?"

 

*

 

"Ugh," M says when he sees them a little while later. "You."

"Us," Dick grins back at him like M isn't trying to glare him out of existence. He steps past M and walks straight to the buffet table to load up on cookies and - "Oh my god, Roy, there's _brownies._ "

M rolls his eyes. "Sorry," Roy says. "They don't feed him at home."

"Obviously," M says. "How ya doing, kid?"

"Okay," Roy says. He rubs at the hickey Hal left on his neck, and M's eyes go straight to it, but he doesn't say anything. "Got a job like a real person and everything."

"Congratulations," M says. He glances behind him at Dick, whose face is already covered in cream cheese frosting from the brownies. He seems to be trying to figure out how many he can reasonably pile on a plate. "Your _friend_ have a job?"

"Heh," Roy says. "He's between things right now, if you can believe it."

"Go figure," M says. He walks off to greet someone else, and Roy drags Dick away from the snacks so they can go get a seat.

"I think that guy hates you," Roy tells him, gesturing over at where M's talking to a girl with curly blonde hair.

"Nah," Dick says. He licks some frosting from his thumb, then wipes his hand on his jeans. "He just doesn't know me yet."

Roy talks at the meeting today. He wasn't planning on it, but when M asks if someone in the room wants to say something to the group, Roy's mouth opens and he just keeps going. "You guys talk about triggers," Roy says. "About these life events that made you who you are. But sometimes I feel like… like an addict's just an addict. Something helpless and desperate that can't stop on its own."

The blonde girl nods, and then so do a few other people. M clears his throat. "Anyone else wanna weigh in on that?"

No one says anything. Dick munches happily at his cookies, and Roy reaches over to steal one when someone says, "Am I too late?" and Roy waves Hal over to sit next to him.

"Figured you'd be here," Hal murmurs as M talks to the group. "You left pretty quick. You doing okay?"

"Better," Roy says. Hal squeezes his leg, and Roy gives him a bite of his brownie.

 

*

 

"Last night," Hal says later. They're sitting outside on the steps after the meeting; Dick's still inside talking to Jason, probably trying to bribe him into becoming his personal chef or something. "I don't want you to think… I mean, I've never been in this situation, but…"

Roy looks him over. Hal hasn't shaved, and he's wearing the same shirt and pants Roy pulled off of him last night. "You didn't do anything wrong, man," Roy says. 

"Oh good," Hal breathes out. "Because I'm kind of fucking impulsive sometimes and I'm getting better about it I think maybe but it's - hard sometimes."

"Yeah," Roy says. "I know."

"I guess I'm a shitty sponsor," Hal says, and Roy shrugs.

"I wouldn't know," Roy says. "But hey, I'm getting close to two weeks now, right?"

"Fuck, man," Hal says. "We should celebrate."

Roy tilts his head at him. "How exactly do sober people celebrate, anyway?"

Hal's lips quirk, and he winks. "I'll think of something," he says. "Trust me."

Thing of it is, Roy really kind of does.

 

*

Some days are easier. Some days Roy wakes up in the morning and doesn't need more than a cigarette, maybe a fuck if he's over at Hal's place. Some days he wakes up and goes to work and it's no problem, just washing dishes and learning prep with Donna. He's a little in love with Donna, the way everyone seems to be. Bruce got her a job here a couple years ago after she stopped taking speed like candy.

"Everyone thought I was perfect," Donna told him when she shared her story. "So I had to _be_ perfect."

Some days are hard, though. Roy wakes up one morning and he's supposed to be at work later that day, but he's not even sure how to get out of bed without drowning.

He calls Hal, because that's what he's supposed to do.

"Hey man," Hal says.

"Hey," Roy says. His whole body itches, and sweat trickles down the back of his neck. "Hey, I um. I need to. Can you come over?"

Hal shows up half an hour later with two giant cups of coffee and breakfast sandwiches from McDonalds. Roy sets them in the kitchen, but he doesn't bother with them, just grabs Hal by the back of his neck and kisses him.

"Roy," Hal says, and Roy says, "Fuck me. I need. Hal, I want -"

"Ssh," Hal says. He grabs onto him until he stops shaking so much, until Roy can smell something besides cooked heroin, can hear something besides the way it bubbles when it cooks up.

"What happened?" Hal asks. He runs his hand down Roy's back, gets his hand under his shirt so he can touch skin. Roy lets out the breath he's been holding for what feels like hours.

"I don't know," Roy says. He does, though. He saw a picture of Tim in his phone last night. He should've deleted the fucking things months ago, but it was one of the ones Tim took himself, and -

And.

"Roy," Hal says. "You gotta talk to me, man."

Roy shakes his head. He pulls Hal's jacket off, throws it onto the floor and then works on Hal's t-shirt. "I don't wanna talk," Roy says. He pulls Hal's belt off. "I want you to fuck me until I don't have to."

"Christ," Hal says. He grabs Roy by the hair, and Roy scrapes his nails down Hal's chest. Hal kisses him hard and it's almost as good as a needle, feels almost as good. "Come on, gorgeous," Hal says. "I got you."

Roy follows him to the bedroom, holding onto his beltloops as he does. "Place is a mess," Roy murmurs. There are piles of clothes all over the floor, books Roy can't concentrate on lately.

"Please," Hal says. "You've seen my apartment." He helps Roy get his shirt off, then his jeans, then lays him out on the bed. Roy hasn't opened the blinds in months and the light is dim in here, but he doesn't miss the way Hal looks at him like he's something - _something_.

"How do you want it?" Hal asks. He shucks off his jeans and boxers, grabs a condom and a bottle of lube from the nightstand and squeezes some lube onto his palm. Roy reaches up and pulls him in by the thighs, gets his legs around Hal and says, "I don't care, man. Just do it now."

"God," Hal says. He slicks up his dick, throws Roy's legs over his shoulders and thrusts in _hard_ , all at once. Roy feels his whole body go slack like a needle in his vein and he lets out a harsh breath.

"Is that," Hal says. "Are you -"

"'s good, man," Roy says. "Come on. I need -"

 _You_ , he almost says, but Hal stops him, bends him almost in half when he fucks out and then in again. He grips Roy's ass, scrapes his teeth against his leg and Roy disappears in the rhythm, only just hears Hal saying _christ, yeah, I could fuck you like this all **day** , **jesus**._

"Harder," Roy says, and Hal slams into him, the mattress sliding on its frame, sheets slipping under Roy. He digs his nails into Hal's back and Hal groans, throws his head back and comes. He pulls out slow, tosses the condom in the trash and then climbs on top of Roy.

"I got you," he murmurs, and Roy doesn't know whether to believe him, but Hal gets between his thighs and sucks him down until his stubble brushes against the root of Roy's dick. His cheeks hollow out and Roy pushes his fingers through the bits of gray in Hal's hair, fucks into his mouth and babbles and begs.

"You wanna come like this?" Hal asks, pulling off. "Or maybe like this," he says and he ducks down and licks Roy's hole, sucks until Roy _screams_.

"God," Roy says. He turns his face into the mattress and Hal breathes against his skin, licks and _licks_ and opens him back up, slides his fingers in and _twists_ and Roy comes, shooting his chest and belly and Hal's mouth when he darts back up.

Hal pulls back then, settles between his thighs and looks down at him. Roy doesn't know what he's supposed to say, but it doesn't matter because Hal cleans him up with the end of the sheet and moves to lay beside him.

"Responsible people don't call into work," Hal says. "But fuck it. One step at a time, right?"

Roy grins. "I think Bruce would agree with that."


End file.
